Anticipation Art Exhibit

I recently walked through the art gallery at our church and took pictures of a sampling of the works on display. The overall theme for this exhibition is "Anticipation." Each artist shared a bit of the inspiration for his or her work. I will include some of their own words next to their work. I hope you enjoy.

Colin Shannon is the photographer who took the above image while on a recent missions trip to Nigeria. He writes, "Even in the buildings, you sensed partnership with the people. Buildings, many old from decades past, are adorned with scripture enscribed on their walls; testimonies of faith in Christ, that he will guide and protect them."

This picture is part of a collage that Colin Shannon and Steven Wagner-Davis arranged. They titled the work "If You Only Knew" for this central image in the collage. They wrote, "We noticed similar looks in many faces. Although not always accompanied by a smirk, it was obvious that the children each had a story they wanted to tell, if we would just ask."

"The idea of creating words from metal came from my wife. She wanted some words of positive encouragement - words that everyone could enjoy. The colors have become a large part of the word. The tone of the word can change with color, just as the meaning of the word can change with usage. - Steve Wilson

Tonia Triebwasser, a writer and painter at our church writes, "This collection of paintings is a result of my struggle with time - my timing versus God's timing. In theory, I believe God is ordering the time and circumstances for my daily small deliverances as much as He ordered the cosmic time for the deliverance of mankind through the womb of Mary with the birth of Jesus. But do I really believe this? If I do it doesn't follow that I should live with a constant sense of racing the clock. Unlike Mary, I have balked and questioned what seems to be a reordering of the natural flow of life's seasons. The war I have painted, is the war I very much want to quit fighting: a war in which winter seems to have arrived before summer; a war which I imagine has required me to blitz through the splendor of a golden autumn. I want to be done with it. I want to enjoy a perennial spring.

This first piece above is entitled, "Summer Pushing Out Winter."

"Winter Resisting Spring"

"Spring Fever"

"Autumn Reluctantly Waiting"

Kristine Mays, our Galley Administrator, creates amazing wire sculptures. Here is what she shared about this piece entitled, "God Became Man."

"Formed from hundreds of pieces of wire, my sculptures become something familiar both physically and emotionally as the human form emerges. I create sculptures with the thought of capturing the soul - the essence of a person. And so in creating this work, several ideas came together - one being drawing attention to God captured in the shell of a baby - the word becoming flesh. I also thought about how God, in all his power and glory chose to become vulnerable and intimately involved in humanity because he so desperately wanted us to know and experience his love for us.

The Landscape of the Heart

A few summers ago my family spent a week at Hilton Head Island in the Lowcountry of South Carolina. Each morning I would wake up, drink a cup of coffee and either head out for a run or a bike ride. One particular morning I went for a bike ride down the beach with my camera pack, eager to get some great photographs of the sea oates and sand dunes. I biked for several miles, however, and soon entered the Port Royal Sound. I was surprised that as I biked into the more isolated, marshy landscape of the sound, the constant mantra of the tides dissipated into an eerie silence.

The terrain shifted from movement and current to stagnant waters, rock, and a more elemental presence. Still filled with beauty, but a bit more wild in its appearance. In the midst of this marshy environment stood two trees. I was captivated by their elemental beauty and the stark contrast with the sea oates and tidal rhythm in which I had been previously immersed. I took several shots of these trees and felt a kindred emotion with this somewhat primitive landscape. It was a lonely place, but its beauty was inescapable. It connected with me emotionally, intuitively, beyond words or simple description.

Often, the landscape of the heart is marked by barrenness and idolatry, but we never talk about it. It is a landscape we would rather avoid. We much prefer the background noise of a busy life to the eerie silence of loneliness, lamentation, and self-absorption.

After listening to friends and fellow worship leaders pour out their hearts in loneliness, frustration, or despair; after hearing of yet another fallen ministry leader; after reflecting on my own wilderness journey, I am convinced that we are simply not in touch with the barren and idolatrous landscape of our own hearts. And thus, we need to learn how to cultivate the heart of the psalmist. We need to learn how to find God in the midst of all circumstances of life. We need language that is deep enough and honest enough for the full range of human emotion.

From the darkest of lament to the most exuberant of praise, the psalms portray the lyrical record of lives lived in perpetual response to God. In the psalms we are given a vocabulary strong enough to articulate our deepest desires and emotions. Through the psalms we can learn how to express ourselves honestly, but healthily, in the midst of the various circumstances of life. This is one of reasons why, in our present day, we need a more robust use of the psalms in worship: to help us develop a richer expression of praise and lament, doubt and adoration, joy and tears.

I wish I had known this language more deeply as I began my first full-time position as a worship leader. Ironically, my first year in full-time ministry was filled with a deep sense of loneliness, a burdening sense of inadequacy, a naïve understanding of people and church politics, and an unhealthy need of approval.

All of this combined with a traumatic and devastating hand injury, a long distance relationship, and no real sense community often led me down a path of learning how to numb my pain and escape from my circumstances. So often I had a real choice before me: I could either choose to find satisfaction in God alone, or turn to something else for comfort. Unfortunately, I often chose the idol of escape.

The sad thing is that, most of the time, I wasn't in touch with the emotional landscape of my heart enough to know why I felt so restless; nor did I have a biblical language to meet me in my restlessness. And, quite frankly, I simply did not want to sit in my pain long enough to find the voice of God.

What I desire to see happen in the body of Christ is for worship to become more than just an hour on Sunday. My desire is to see worshippers, not just raising their hands in the congregation, but pouring out their praise and their lament on Wednesday and Thursday and Friday. I want to see the full gamut of expression become second nature for the body of Christ. We need to make the connection from the corporate gathering on the Lord's Day to our private lives of worship the rest of the week. Getting there is going to require us to get in touch with landscape of our hearts, particularly, the barrenness (lamentation, addictions) and the idolatry (ambition, stardom). As William Cowper once penned:

“The dearest idol I have known, whate'er that idol be; help me to tear it from thy throne and worship only thee.”

I hope that we can learn to be more transparent and let the Lord search the deep places of our hearts. I hope that we will begin to sit still enough to hear the voice of God amidst the various landscapes of the heart. Hopefully, through the psalms, we can begin to know these places emotionally and intuitively. May we learn how to be still and gaze upon our Redeemer. May the Lord be with us on this journey into the heart of the psalmist, into the heart of worship.

Once Again

This is footage from one of our morning worship services during the third week of Advent at our church in California. Our theme for the Advent season is "Anticipation." Journeying through the story of the Bible, we have looked at anticipation through the eyes of Naomi and Ruth (during the period of the Judges); through the eyes of Isaiah (before the exile); and, this past Sunday, through the eyes of Daniel (during the Babylonian exile).

The theme of exile really spoke to me as I was planning the weekend services. At one point I turned my attention to Psalm 137, a psalm which captures the emotional state of the people Israel while in a foreign land. As I read through the text I thought of a song I wrote about fourteen years ago while living in Nashville. The song (entitled "Once Again") is about what I would describe as spiritual exile. Though we may not find ourselves in a place of geographic exile, I think we can all resonate with feeling distant from God. This song is an honest and vulnerable expression of a wayward heart, longing for a renewed fire and passion.

Once Again

Words and music by Paxson Jeancake, 1995

A restless heart, I've run so far I'm miles from home. Can't find my way, and I don't know just where I've gone. 'Cause you once were close, but now you seem so far away. Lord, am I lost? Please show me the way.

'Cause I'm just singin' but Lord I'm not feelin' your love; I'm going through the motions one more time. And I need your fire, Lord, to take me higher again; I need your fire to burn inside my heart once again.

There was a time, a time when my heart was whole; But now it seems that it runs between you and this world. And winter waits as autumn colors fade away. And so our lives face seasons of change.